


Shall we begin?

by human_err0r



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Assassin Killua Zoldyck, Assassin test, Brutal Murder, Father-Son Relationship, Killua is badass, Murder, POV Killua Zoldyck, Silva is proud, Zoldyck family training, Zoldyck heir, is that father&son bonding?, mind game (sort of), or Silva checking if Killua's training is complete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:13:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29113590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/human_err0r/pseuds/human_err0r
Summary: Silva Zoldyck puts his son Killua through a final test that will tell whether or not he's ready to go on missions as an assassin.
Kudos: 2





	Shall we begin?

By the time father and son had reached the foot of the mountain, the sky had turned a dark shade of blue, casting shadows deep into the woods surrounding their home. Tonight was a special night. The final test. The one little Killua had been preparing for since he had reached the age of two. He was now five, short but fast, thin but tough. The many hours of training by the side of his illustrious grandfather, his father and his older brother Illumi, had taught him everything he needed to know to become an assassin. A machine. Born to track down anyone. Born to kill.

The soft sound of their steps abruptly stopped. Wind blew through long, silver hair, and made a shiver run down the young boy's spine. He was cold, but knew he would be warming up pretty soon. Slowly, he looked up at the tall, imposing man standing by his side, stern and determined expressions on his face. There were questions fillimg the Zoldyck heir's head, yet he did not word any of them; he had learned to keep quiet when facing his father. So, he waited, contemplating the moon, partly hidden by thick, grey clouds. Nightime was no strange choice for such an importance test. It would require to keep all his senses awake and alerted. A lack of light did not mean it was necessarily easier to hide either. Although, he had been working on erasing his presence, on controlling his breathing pace, on moving without making any sound. His training consisted in one of the best, to turn him into a perfect replica of his parents, if not stronger. It might come off as pretentious, but he was already almost entirely sure he would pass whatever challenge he would have to face tonight.

"Killua." Silva eventually spoke up, making the child perk up. "The entire forest is our perimeter for tonight. To succeed, you will have to track me down. Think of me as a target. Your target. I want you to invest all your strenght into this. Remember what you've been taught. Track me like you want to kill me."

This test did not sound as difficult as anticipated, after all. He had already killed; not anyone outside the disobedient butlers and maids that were used as human targets to sharpen his skills. There had been in situ sessions, but this time felt different.  
"Use your techniques. And try to kill me."

Kill his father, or be killed by his father.

"Ok. Shall we begin?"

Just as expected, the presence of his father had disappeared. Faded into thin air. Eyes closed in concentration, Killua tried to perceive it. His ears were like the ones of a cat, detecting high frequencies with more ease than anyone he had ever met; he wasn't bragging about it, since it was the truth. But a well-developed hearing could not be possibly enough to help him locate his prey. His father was not just anyone, he had to admit that. Taking a deep, silent breath, he straightened up, his back briefly brushing against the tree he was hiding behind. To prove his value, he had to show what he could do. And it was only when he felt someone approaching that he understood he had been wrong to blindly believe what his elder had told.  
"If you move, you're dead."

A sharp, cold blade pressed against his neck. Behind him, stood a man, a stranger in the Zoldyck property. An intruder? No. Of course not. A smile grew on his lips. Silva had not revealed what the real test was; he had no prey, but was the prey himself. In a flash, the amusement had left his traits. If he had felt exstatic at the brutal turn of events, he now felt extremely irritated. Who did this guy think he was talking to? A rat? A cockroach? Oh, great mistake.

"No. If 𝘺𝘰𝘶 move, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 are dead." The tone of his voice was calm. Steady. Even with a weapon pointed at his artery, he wasn't afraid. Because he knew he could win. Behind him, he heard a huff, and felt the blade twitch against his flesh, its pointy end piercing through it...  
A few seconds. A drop of blood rolling down his neck. Before it could land on the ground, Killua had swapped their places. Now the one who had dared pretend he was stronger had his back facing the child, who did not wait for pleas to sharpen his nails and stab him in the chest with nothing but his bare hand.

"I told you so." 

Eyes glowing with a new light, an extinct yet ferocious one, he had the time to pull his hand out to stop the punch his second opponent was throwing in his direction, only to tug him towards the ground and pin him against it with one foot crushing his back. Still holding the man's fist, he slightly crouched down, pulling on his arm.

"A punch? Really? Is that what my father asked you to use against me? Pathetic." Not in the mood for games anymore, he put him out of his misery by reaching down for his heart.

When the sun had risen, indicating that the morning came, Silva Zoldyck decided to show up. All night long, the forrest surrounding Kukuroo Mountain had been drinking blood. Thirty men, old and young, were lying on the ground. Dead. Killua had killed each and every one of them, seein in the many splatters staining his clothes and face. Most of it was dry already, but fresh blood was still dripping from his long, thin fingers. The only injury visible, was that insignificant cut on his neck, close to his jaw. They had tried to stab him, electrocute him, but they all failed. Mechanically, he rubbed his cheek with the back of his left hand, barely wiping anything off. His breathing pace was steady.  
His father stopped in front of him, and soon, his large hand was resting on the top of his head. A rare act of affection he barely considered as such. Slowly, he looked up to meet his eyes, icy blue in icy blue. Pride. Contained joy. That was what he could read in these strict, not so emotionless orbs.

"You are ready. Now, go take a bath before your mother sees the mess you've made."


End file.
